


somatic

by domesticatedantelope (vaultie_glass)



Category: Blades of Light and Shadow (Visual Novel)
Genre: Brief choking mention, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, in which mc makes a lordling beg, very sexy use of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23417581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaultie_glass/pseuds/domesticatedantelope
Summary: “You don’t need any magic to keep my attention, Tyril.” She tilts down to kiss him, and his lips part to her with a low and longing moan. “I’m already yours.”
Relationships: Tyril Starfury/Main Character (Blades of Light and Shadow)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	somatic

He only ever says her full name.

Enunciates the syllables the way he incants magic, as if he will summon lightning from the sound of it - like he would let her steal those precious seconds of his centuries without a blink of doubt.

When she has him under her palm, breathing thinly through the hand around his throat, he chokes her name out on the sharp edge of a sigh and nearly comes undone. 

“ _Verena_.”

She relinquishes her grip to drag her fingers down his chest, feeling the rapid flutter of his heartbeat at her touch. Pinned between her thighs, he swallows empty air and never tears his eyes away, the tension of restraint locked rigid in his muscles. 

“Shall I continue?” A lazy, feline smile curls across her face as she considers him: the dark splay of his hair and flush of violet blooming at his cheekbones, those finely skilled hands curling into fists among the linens, knuckles pale.

Tyril wets his lips, flashing the white of his teeth in a brittle laugh. “I expect that you can guess my answer.”

She can _feel_ it, hard and heated beneath her weight, twitching when she rolls her hips against him. Impatience strains his voice into a groan, his normal eloquence beginning to unravel, thread by thread. 

Tyril comes apart in the most captivating phases. 

Never the same twice, with all the wild volatility that simmers in his magic. He has growled her name and left his mark in bruises from his fingers; he has pressed his lips in tender kisses down her neck and pleaded for her in the peak of climax. He has been both storm, and the stillness that follows. 

When she lifts her hips, one hand reaching to encircle him and guide him in against her, he steadies a burning palm at the slope of her waist. Slowing her, luring the flighty presence of her gaze back to his own, deep and bright and endless blue. Dark lashes frame his eyes, hung low on heavy lids as he stares up at her with something close to worship in the sharp planes of his face. 

“Verena.” Bitten down against a swollen lip, breath hitching in his throat when her teeth sink at the muscles of his shoulder. “ _Please_ , I…”

With an enamored hum, she splays her hand against his chest, dark fingers spread possessively over his pounding heart. “I like seeing you beg.” She licks her fingertips before teasing them down the rigid length of his cock, thrilling when he struggles not to fuck into her grip. “Mmn, I like feeling you even more.” 

His eyes flash with a glint so much like starlight, and the ozone crackle of his magic sparks between his fingers, prompting jolts of heat that drop in shivers down her spine. She feels the restless tickle of raw energy, like lightning he has tamed and drawn against her skin, and the knot of want within her cinches tighter with every strike.

“Gods.” Verena shudders, faltering above him. They both hiss when his cock slips clumsily against the slick of her folds, where her body aches to take him, wet and oversensitive. “Ha - I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

He trails a sparking touch over her hip, magnetic pressure that leaves pinprick tingles in his wake. “I will -” and here his voice breaks, cracking into fragments when she firms her grip around him, “e- _endeavor_ to keep you entertained.”

Her heart stutters behind her ribs, a sudden softness taking root there. She rests her palm against the warm curve of his cheek, her thumb tracing gently along his jaw. “You don’t need any magic to keep my attention, Tyril.” She tilts down to kiss him, and his lips part to her with a low and longing moan. “I’m already yours.”

His fingers clench into her thighs as she sinks down around him, gasping at the current that leaps from his touch and the breathtaking stretch when finally they come together. Her eyelids flutter, and she watches pleasure twist in his expression through thin slivers of vision, strangled noises catching at the back of her throat. The head of his cock nudges heavy against tender nerves, and the ecstasy of that connection spans her body, throbbing out the cadence of her frenzied pulse.

Tyril jerks a few swift, shallow thrusts, a curse clenched in his teeth. His eyes flit from her face down to her breasts, to the glints of silver piercing through the dark peaks of her nipples, and before she has a moment to adjust his hands are hunting greedily up the soft slope of her stomach. His fingers leave a path of arcing heat across her skin, and then his thumb is closing slowly in around a stiffened point, the first bright spark of magic prompting her to breathless keening. 

Thick locks of white hair tumble down her back as she arches above him, scrabbling at the tensing muscles of his chest. He surges up against her, and she feels the brief scrape of his teeth marking her throat, her collarbone, his hand a burning sun at the small of her back as she rocks her hips, chasing the shock of bliss when he sinks deep inside of her. 

Verena tangles both hands through his hair, grasping him close, breathing mindless adoration at his ear. Her head spins with the scent of sweat and incense, the smoke and earth that linger after storms. When he gasps and drags his mouth down the valley between her breasts, tasting with the flat of his tongue, she whispers an approximation of his name into the sweltering air around them. 

With a hoarse, rumbling groan, Tyril frames his hand around her jaw, lifting to kiss the corner of her panting mouth. “Tell me again,” he prompts, his voice dark earth and gravel. 

“Yours,” she chants into his touch, against the hollow of his palm, her heart beating a frantic rhythm in her chest that echoes: _yours, forever_. “Tyril - _gods_ \- I’m yours.”

His fingers chart five trails of lightning shivers down her side, hot, sawtooth pleasure bridging, building, filling every atom of her body. She reaches blindly for the edge of relief forming just outside her grasp, holding fast to every wave of rapture scorching through her. When Tyril finds the swollen bud above where they connect, his touch ignites there too, and she is struck abruptly speechless, seizing in his arms.

The void of pleasure yawns before her, endless precipice that threatens to consume her, and with broken sobs, she gives in to his pull and takes the plunge. Her body tenses everywhere, the fingers carving nails across his shoulders, thighs clenched tight against his sides, Tyril hissing his surprise beneath her when she squeezes down around him. White heat washes over, seafoam lapping shores, the light of fire when it burns, the glimmer of the stars against the dark of night; she sees it all in rushing glimpses through the pulsing bliss of her release, and then - vast _nothing_ , empty darkness and the sweet relief of coming.

She vaguely hears her own name through the haze, panting clumsy nonsense at the column of his throat, digging with teeth when he curls a hand around her nape to drag her closer. She feels the coiled tension under his skin, muscles rigid as her hips fall out of rhythm. He secures a bruising grip along her thigh, guiding her back into motion, meeting her gaze through the dampened tresses of his hair. His mouth twists, almost pained, a desperate whine on his tongue as he fucks urgently up into her.

Dizzied by the high of climax, Verena bites down at the bend between his throat and shoulder, teeth against his pulse, and growls, “ _Mine_ ,” into the heartbeat sprinting hard beneath his skin. Tyril’s fingers twitch against her waist, pinning her against him as he seethes a groan and spills inside of her, hips flexing out the crest of his release. His head tips back, mouth open to the ceiling and the sky and elven gods the world has long forgotten, his lips shaping a voiceless echo of her name.

She loops her arms around his shoulders, soothing kisses at the tense line of his neck until he stills against her, muscles lapsing into an exhausted slump. Her senses gradually recover, and she notes with growing clarity the places where their bodies meet, skin slicked with sweat, the air around them charged and stifling from the current of his magic. 

In the settling quiet, when they sprawl together in the starlight and sea breeze that drift in through their open window, Tyril traces scrawling letters in the cooling sweat on her skin, and he tells her of the old tongue, phrases that sing in his blood and lead his dreams at night, sacred words he spells like verse across her body. 

Eventually his touch drifts up the inside of her thighs, ancient poems etched beneath his fingers as he teases closer to the blissful throbbing that lingers on between her legs. When she casts him an accusing glance, he offers her a slow curl of a smile in response. 

“Shall I continue?” he wonders aloud, watching her squirm under his hands.

Verena hums, breathy with laughter, leading his fingers higher up her thighs. “Tyril Starfury,” - and he blushes when she says his full name, even as he touches her and makes her gasp - “Don’t ever stop.”


End file.
